


I loved you lifetimes ago

by mostlikelydefinentlymad



Series: under 1k fic [7]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: 1940's, Fluff, M/M, POV Second Person, POV Steve Rogers, Pining, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sleepovers, Underage Kissing, it's so damn...sappy, they're fourteen in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:04:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8368198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mostlikelydefinentlymad/pseuds/mostlikelydefinentlymad
Summary: You're fourteen and trying not to fall in love and he's forever trying not to notice. You're both tucking lucky pennies in coat pockets and stealing glances like dime store candy but everyone knows, everyone knows.





	

Bucky breathes and you want to hate him for it. Inhale, _I love you._ Exhale, _How can I undo that?_

 

His chest then, where the heart lies. You want to feel his blood pulsing against the smooth grain of your palm until every heartbeat is an echo in your bones. You want to squeeze past ivory and crimson, to replace his heart with yours. And if he woke with the weight of a thousand unspoken stanza's of _I think I'm in love, love, love, love with you,_ holding him down, you'd confess.

"We're fated to fall together, see? Feel the thumping in my chest, now put a hand over your own. Take your time. It's uneven, listen. _thump_ pause _thump thump_ pause _thump._ I gave you mine, I figure we're even now," you'd say.

Bucky would feel it and know.

"So this is love," he'd reply.

No, too easy.

 

He sighs in his sleep and you want to shake him until he opens his eyes. They're the sort of blue that makes the sky jealous and you miss them already. Outside, gray clouds cover sunbeams and bring frigid winds. The world is a colder place without the warmth of his smile and his face doesn't look right without it. It's all sharp cheekbones and shadows that have no right to be there.

 

You're fourteen and trying not to fall in love and he's forever trying not to notice. You're both tucking lucky pennies in coat pockets and stealing glances like dime store candy but everyone knows, everyone knows.

 

Tonight you've a busted lip and black eye and neither hurt as badly as waking up next to him on your mothers couch cushions. Bucky will belong to Cecilia St. Clair tomorrow at five thirty but he is yours for 24 hours, for now. You should want her blonde curls and waxy red lipstick like most of the neighborhood boys do but this is the part where you get it all wrong. This is where you admit to yourself that the only lips you want on yours hate the color red and taste like Beechies peppermint gum.

You could play Prince Charming if you were brave enough. Sleeping Beauty would awaken to find that his prince was actually a scrawny boy with arms like toothpicks and scrapes on his knuckles. The way you see it, Bucky would do one of two things:

Walk away with his hands in his pockets and everything you held dear in the whole of his chest.

Or wrap around you like ivy and tell you hes been waiting ages, _what took you so long?_

 

No, that can't be. Boys like you don't get fairytale endings.

 

Okay, if you cannot trade Bucky's heart for yours or kiss him awake, there must be a third option: _**wait**_. Drink more water, wish on more stars, speak love quietly and often. You're the smallest ticking clock, the stillest rebellion. You are so used to watching everyone else take what you want but you are a fighter if nothing else. Bucky will not know of your internal battle but you will go out swinging if need be. To tell him or not, throw a punch in your own direction for cowardice.

You will love him as an unbroken hymn: every morning you (the prince) will rise and sing: _wait, wait, wait._

 

So you do. Here on this marred floor, Bucky groans in his sleep and shifts in your direction. An arm gropes the surface until it curls around yours and he grins lazily. He wakes in steps, arms first as they reach for you. Mouth second, " 'mm cold, come'ere."

Ivy.

His legs, your cold feet, couch cushions meeting in the middle.

Fourteen years, six months, his bedhead and blue eyes. No one bothered to tell you love could be this strong.

You shift, chin reaching for his as a hungry flower bends toward the sun. Sleeping Beauty (Bucky, respectively) swallows hard and magnetism draws him into your orbit.

"Steve." An epiphany, the stillest rebellion.

 _thump-_ _I'm in love-thump thump-love-thump-love love_

A nervous whisper breaks free, a confession. "I...I'm gonna kiss you if you don't stop me. Can I just..."

Bucky surges forward and, careful not to brush against the dried blood on your lip, grazes the seam. As he draws back, you tug him in for another and meet no resistance. He smiles; in this fairytale, the prince is not what he seems but, in truth, he is everything.

Inhale, _I loved you lifetimes ago; before I even knew your name._

He exhales, _So this is love._

**Author's Note:**

> I think it goes without saying that Bucky canceled his date ;) 
> 
> inspired by richard siken. I love the abstract style of his poetry.
> 
> title is from my own poem:  
> I loved you lifetimes ago, through the mists of time  
> years ago I fell with you  
> may time give two souls love  
> till the sun should fall from the sky


End file.
